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  “I didn’t know,’ I offered lamely, not sure what else to say. It felt awkward enough

  “I’m Linda,” she offered her hand, “We all know who you are.”

  “Hi, Linda,” I smiled. “Please call me Farrah.” I took her hand in my own and shook it gently.

  “Farrah. You think your father is going to do all the little things he promises he will?”

  Blushing, I looked down at the ridiculous four-inch heels on my feet. Hopefully, Shauna wasn’t watching. Although Linda seemed sincere, I had been schooled, time and time again, about not getting into political specifics with anyone, regardless of how harmless the person may appear. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. According to my father’s campaign team, you never knew if someone was genuinely reaching out, or digging for the next six o’clock news story.

  Sensing my reluctance, Linda continued, “Never mind, Farrah. You can’t be expected to answer a hypothetical. That wasn’t a fair question of me to ask. You’re not the one headed to D.C. any day now… are you?”

  I laughed, “No, no. Everyone knows I plan to stay up here. I’m not ready for politics or the Capitol any time soon! I have my own interests.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Gazing over the crowd—that mother and her little girl who had caught my eye, among others—I wanted so much to see if there was a way to give out second helpings. Judging by the crowd, though, I could tell there was just enough food to go for one round, and that the operation had been tightly organized to run that way.

  “It’s not that I haven’t been to a place like this before, because I have. This isn’t the first time I’ve hit the campaign trail with them,” I explained. “And I’ve lived in the city long enough to know that not everyone lives in a penthouse on Riverside Drive. Still…”

  My voice trailed off as the girl ate her final bite of carrot and smiled up lovingly at her mother.

  “There, better now?” the mother tenderly asked.

  Eyes beaming, her sadness momentarily washed away, the girl nodded her head, pleased. She rubbed her belly and smiled. “Delicious!” she cheered.

  “Well, I’m needed in back,” Linda said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Farrah. Don’t make yourself a stranger now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sage

  “Over here! Right next to the ice luge! Tara, get those place settings out—ASAP. Greg, I said the program should be tilted more toward the left side of the plate, not right. Come on, work with me people! This isn’t rocket science… or computer coding—for those of you who’ve been playing on smartphones since you were in diapers! Run, run, run!” Rory frantically paced back and forth, eyes ablaze (looking far more army general than party planner), as he furiously barked orders at everyone and anyone who was paid to listen to him.

  We were well into prepping for the Regina Matley party—the venue, of course, taking place at none other than Central Park—and her guests were scheduled to arrive within the hour. At Regina’s personal request, Reina had worked with the park to instate a permit closing off an entire section to the public. That, in itself, had turned out into a near catastrophe, had it not been for Reina’s cool, quick thinking and charismatic charm.

  Nothing less than the utmost intense anxiety permeated that crisp, fall evening as night fell upon us, signaling that our show was about to begin.

  Tallulah had very wisely made sure that we had our own spot to set up, off to the side—a relatively safe distance from all the craziness. As I helped her set up, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Main Star team—Rory’s personal minions—many of them scattered all around the tent like a confused army of ants, as they twisted and toiled to make sure that every little detail was executed to perfection.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Tallulah assured me, as Rory did all but cause the entire team to wet their pants and cry. There had to be a whole slew of office bullying/harassment protocols he was breaking! “Not our problem,” she added. “Rory will manage to get everything just right, as he always does, and Darcy will keep him in check. You and I just get to sit back, relax… and capture the whole disaster on film for all to see!”

  For the first time in a very long time, I simply nodded, figuring it was best just to keep quiet. Tallulah was a rock star, and everyone knew it. As long as I followed her intrepid lead, neither one of us could fail.

  Unless, of course, Regina Matley hated my photos, me, and made sure to viciously blast all my hard work on social media—thus ensuring that I never find photography work ever again.

  Despite the mass panic, though, it was hard not to get caught up in the excitement of it all. As I watched Rory dictate every little step and movement anyone could make (with Darcy standing coolly by his side, blowing perfectly rounded smoke rings into the air), I couldn’t help but notice how perfectly it all fell into place.

  From the silver and black programs, to the glittery cobwebs that hung from the top of the tent, to the ginormous blue and purple skull and bones cake that stretched almost the entire length of my body! It was all a testament to Reina’s great leadership. Even though she came across as a down-to-earth, come-what-may kind of person, Reina’s exquisite attention to detail and meticulous planning revealed itself in every way possible. I could only imagine what one of her celebrity weddings must have looked like in person!

  “ARE YOU FRICKIN’ KIDDING ME!??!?!”

  And then, everything stopped.

  Standing at the center of it all, stood a horrified Rory, dangling what looked like a bouquet of pink roses from his grasp the same way someone might, say, hold a dead a rat. A speechless Darcy stood frozen at his side, the lit end of her cigarette butt of her dwindling dangerously close to her fingertips.

  “Why are these roses PINK!?!?!?!” Rory shrieked in absolute horror.

  “They… they came that way,” Cleo, the new intern stammered. “I thought this is what you ordered.”

  You could hear a pin drop.

  “Uh oh,” Tallulah whispered. “This isn’t going to be good.”

  I nodded knowingly. In what parallel universe would Regina Matley prefer pink anything? How did Cleo not realize this?

  “How many times did I go on and on, until I was blue in the face, about ordering bouquets of black—not white, not purple, and certainly not PINK—roses?!?! Everyone and their nanna knows the greats lengths I went through to ensure that everything is perfect. And now look. LOOK AT THEM!”

  Thrusting the bouquet just inches from Cleo’s face, Rory’s complexion morphed through a series of several shades—including crimson and downright violet—as he wildly gestured, limbs flailing, as he wailed over the hundreds of pink rose bouquets that lay before him.

  And then, it happened. The one thing none of us ever expected to witness in a lifetime.

  Rory began to cry.

  “I didn’t mean it!” Cleo apologized profusely, tears and snot spewing running down the sides of her face in watery streaks, without a handkerchief in sight. “This is what was delivered, and I thought… I thought it was what you wanted.”

  “Somebody’s getting fired,” Darcy drawled, flicking that cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, before automatically going on to light another.

  “I’m ruined,” Rory sobbed. “I am officially ruined.”

  “Reina’s not going to fire you.” Tallulah ran over to assure him. “She’s not like that. Maybe we can call and—”

  “And what? Magically get five hundred bouquets of black roses to appear before the guests arrive?” Rory slunk to the ground and cradled his forehead in his hands, all but crawling into a full-on fetal-position in front of the entire team. “Reina’s not going to fire me… but Regina won’t let this blow over, I know she won’t. Memes will be born from this.”

  I watched as everyone from the team exchanged nervous glances—some obviously worried, others confused. And, there were definitely a few who were outright weirded out. In a lot of ways, it all seemed so inconsequential—ev
ery other detail of the party looked perfect. From the tents to the arcade, to the giant inflatable haunted house with a full cast of horror actors prepping inside. Could such a teeny detail, really cause that much devastation? There had to be something we could do.

  “We’re screwed,” concluded Darcy, blowing out another series of smoke rings as if to punctuate her expressed sentiments.

  “The roses couldn’t even be blue, or purple,” Rory lamented, still fully immersed in his self-induced pity party. “They had to be pink—the happiest, most bubbly color in all of human existence. Halloween is not pink. Regina Matley is not pink. Dresses are pink. Dollhouses are pink.”

  Dollhouses—that was it! I immediately knew what had to be done!

  “I have an idea!” I blurted. “I know exactly what we can do!”

  It actually seemed so simple, I was surprised it hadn’t occurred to anyone else sooner.

  “Sage,” Tallulah whispered. “Think about what you’re about to say before you say it.”

  “I got this,” I said with confidence. “Rory, you’re a genius, and you don’t even know it.” I walked over to where he sat and offered him a boost off the ground. “Like my mom always says, get up, dust yourself off, and hear me out. You are going to love me. I will be your favorite person for a very, very long time.”

  Rory hesitantly took my hand and helped himself up, looking incredibly flustered and, even more so, incredibly doubtful. “This I need to hear,” he replied skeptically.

  Realizing, then, that the entire Main Star crew was staring right at me, waiting eagerly to hear my sales pitch, I fought an instant flurry of butterflies that struggled to make my stomach their new home. Taking a deep breath, I coaxed myself through what needed to be done. Sure, I didn’t know much about party planning. But I did know a whole lot about being a super angsty teenage girl. It had been a couple of years since, but I still had a handle on it.

  “You said it yourself, Rory. Pink is a fun color. A happy color. The bubbliest color in all the land. When we see pink, we think parties and dresses. Bubblegum. Cotton candy. Dollhouses. Well, what do young teenage girls, who are experimenting and trying to figure out their identity, do with all their childhood dolls?”

  “Put them away in the attic?” Rory asked.

  “Pass them down to a younger sibling or cousin to play with?” Tallulah offered.

  “Throw them in the trash,” Darcy stated flatly.

  Several other team members offered, what were all, very reasonable answers to my question—but not a single person got it right.

  “Well yes, the adolescent girls who are fairly well adjusted do that, too,” I acquiesced. “But I’m talking about angsty, sassy, every-cloud-is-gray teenage girls. Girls who still long for childhood, but are experimenting with rebellion and trying to find their… edginess?”

  The team remained silent as I inched my way toward the center of the group.

  I paused for dramatic effect until I couldn’t hold back my excitement any longer. “They color their dolls’ hair and faces with MARKERS!” I proclaimed over-enthusiastically as if manna itself was about to rain down on us from the sky—to which, I received many a blank stare.

  After several moments passed us without a single team member uttering a reply, Rory asked in horror, “Are you seriously suggesting that we mutilate the flowers?” No longer wailing and blubbering, Rory had simply grown pale. “I know this is a Halloween party, Sloane, but that’s just dark.”

  “I stand by throwing them in the trash,” Darcy added.

  “NO!” I exclaimed, waving my hands back and forth frantically. “Don’t throw them in the trash! And don’t destroy them, either! I’m not talking about seriously demented teenage girls! I’m talking about the ones who are coloring their dolls’ hair different fun shades of the rainbow, like blue or purple. You know? Giving their dolls funky eye makeup. Not robbing them of their dignity and beauty—just making them unique.”

  I ran over and grabbed one of the bouquets that sadly lay on the grass. “Quick, someone give me a blue marker. And a purple one. And some glitter stick.”

  Reluctantly, Rory nodded his approval, and two interns were immediately on the case. He must have figured there wasn’t much left to lose. Handing me the art supplies requested, I scribbled a few pretty designs and etchings onto the pink roses, making sure to keep each petal in perfect place. As a final touch, I added a little glitter stick to make them sparkle, and viola!

  Proudly, I held up a very pretty, very edgy, punked-out bouquet. It looked pretty damn awesome, if I did say so myself.

  “It looks cool,” Tallulah admired. “Like it’s artistic, different, but it still respects the flower’s natural beauty.”

  “Regina’s going to love it,” I insisted. “So will her guests.”

  Part of me wanted to add that Regina and her friends would probably be too busy having fun even to notice, but kept that little tidbit to myself.

  “But it’s still obviously pink,” Rory countered. “Won’t she say it looks too much like what a little girl might want?”

  Darcy nodded her agreement, stomping out another butt before lighting yet another.

  “Don’t you get it?” I asked, pretty surprised by their failure to understand. “Regina might be super famous. She might have been parentified by her absent mom. Sure, there was that one stint in rehab. And yeah, Regina has hooked up with every teen heartthrob under the age of eighteen. But despite it all, she’s still a kid,” I insisted. “She’s like every other thirteen-year-old kid out there. Trying to navigate somewhere between childhood and growing up. Finding her way. She’s still a child.”

  I held up the bouquet for everyone to see. “These flowers say just that.”

  The team remained quiet and looked to Rory expectantly, waiting to hear his final say. Just like Dane at HEDZ, Rory held an insurmountable amount of clout that solidified his word as golden, regardless of what it might be. After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a couple of seconds, Rory finally weighed in.

  “If we go down this direction, we need everyone on the project. Fast. We need to transform four hundred and ninety-nine bouquets into what Sage was able to do in less than thirty seconds, and we need it done even faster.”

  “Am I right?!?!” I exclaimed, in disbelief myself in how much faith Rory had placed on me, the newbie, in just a manner of minutes. Had I not believed in my suggestion, his reaction wouldn’t be nearly as exciting. But I knew it was the way for us to go. It would be like one big fun arts and crafts project. Perhaps an arts and crafts project with the potential to end as a major epic fail, but I wasn’t about to say that.

  Rory looked up at me and quietly responded, “I think you’re onto it, Sloane. I think it’s going to turn out alright. Okay everybody, let’s get to work! Chop! Chop! I’ll help!”

  And when he was confident that no one was definitely noticing, Rory turned to me and mouthed the words, thank you.

  *

  “Looks like the evening was a success.”

  Looking up from Tallulah’s equipment as I carefully packed everything up, I almost did a double take. Jake was walking toward me with his bicycle in tow.

  “This section is back open to the public?” I asked.

  “Looks like it. Either that or Regina Matley may want to look into hiring new security detail.” He grinned. “All joking aside, I brought my bike—thought you might want a ride home. For what it’s worth, the party was all over her social media. Likes are still coming in.” Jake waved his phone back and forth, grin evolving into a vast goofy and toothy smile, plastered on his already sunny face.

  “It is? She uploaded onto her account?!?!? Let me see that!”

  I could barely hide the surprise and excitement in my voice. The evening had passed us by so fast, I barely had time to finish a full bottle of water, let alone check for social media updates.

  Rushing over to Jake, I grabbed the phone right out of his hand, eagerly needing to soak up the evid
ence. Sure enough, hundreds—if not more—pics of the evening had been uploaded, with the promise of more to come. Even better, as impressive as the photos were, it didn’t look like a single one rivaled what Tallulah and I had been able to capture!

  “It’s all there for anyone to see,” Jake said. “Regina’s account. Her friends’ accounts. A couple of moments were live streamed. And, I spotted you running around in the background during one of them. It was pretty awesome to see.”

  “No way!” Hastily, I pulled an elastic off my wrist and used it to fasten my hair into an impromptu messy knot. “Ugh, I have to help pack this stuff up, and my hair keeps getting in my face. But this should be done in ten minutes. Fifteen tops. Then I’ll take a better look.” I handed Jake back his phone. “Want to help me out with disassembling this tripod?” I asked, before running back over to our photography gear.

  “Sure.” Jake leaned his bike against a table and joined me. “Look, I’m not trying to impose. If you want me to leave you alone, Sage, I will. It’s just that I was riding in the area and figured you could use seeing a familiar face.” He paused to take everything in. We were surrounded by the disarray of what was left of Regina’s party. “This place looks like you had half the island of Manhattan here.”

  “You’re not imposing. And yeah, it sure felt like it. Although I heard four hundred was actually a low key guest count for a Regina Matley affair. Last year’s Winter Holiday party topped a thousand.”

  What I wanted to tell Jake, was that not only was he not imposing, but it meant everything that he would drop what he was doing to come see me after an incredibly important project. That I had actually managed to save the day, or at the very least had prevented Reina’s personal assistant from having a full-on meltdown in the middle of Central Park. I wanted Jake to be there, be a part of it, and share in my happiness. Of course, none of that actually came out of my mouth. All I could do was quietly fill up my backpack.

  “Did you hear anything about whether or not this could become a full-time thing?” Jake asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.